Page 14 of Never Been Shipped

“It’s okay,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

She looked up at him, giving a shaky little laugh, but he noticed she didn’t step out of his touch, either. “At least you weren’t wearing white.”

“Very fortuitous.”

Just then, John felt a hand land heavy on his back, and he turned to see Ryder, who’d just arrived and apparently felt moved to greet John with a quasi-bro hug. Something that they’d…probably never done, not even back in high school.

“Hey, guys, sorry I’m late,” Ryder said, as if they’d all been waiting on him. He’d already insinuated himself in the group, and John took a step back, letting his hands drop from Micah. “Miss anything good?”

“These Breeze drinks,” Steve said, brandishing his now-empty cup. “But the bar is open.”

“Your friend Tatiana was looking for you,” Frankie said.

Ryder looked so momentarily eager that John had to hide a smile. “Really?”

Frankie rolled their eyes. “No, not really.”

Ryder flicked his hair out of his eyes with a jerky head movement. “Well, don’t forget we have rehearsal tomorrow morning,” he said. “So no getting drunk tonight. Steve? Did you hear that? You’re cut off.”

“Chill out, man, I’ve only had one of these things,” Steve said.

“And we have bingo after lunch.” Frankie pulled out their phone, maybe checking a schedule they’d saved on there. “So tomorrow’s pretty packed.”

“Don’t look at me,” Ryder said. “It wasn’tmyidea to save rehearsal for the boat. We could’ve all been sleeping in or laying out by the pool tomorrow morning.”

John glanced over at Micah, but her face betrayed nothing. He still didn’t totally understand why she’d pushed so hard for no rehearsals, but he supposed her schedule must be busy. Forsome reason he thought of those bracelets again, tumbling out of her guitar case.

“We have three songs to run through,” John said. “And three hours to do it. We should be fine.”

“Hey, if we nail them down early we can still catch some pool time,” Steve said, and Frankie reached out to rattle his empty cup.

“What was in this?” they asked. “Youarecut off. There’s not going to be any time to lounge in the pool tomorrow.”

“Say what you will,” Steve said, “but you and I both know if rehearsal runs long, it won’t be because of me.”

Knowing Steve, that was an innocent statement—meant more as a cocky self-aggrandizement, or more truthfully as a declaration of fact. Steve hadneverbeen the problem. He kept time like he had a metronome ticking in his brain, and even when he’d broken or thrown a stick, he had such a smooth way of grabbing another one without missing a beat that John had suspected he did it on purpose as part of his showmanship.

But Ryder immediately bristled, and John could tell he’d taken Steve’s comment as a dig. “So I have high standards,” he said. “Sue me. I’m not going to let us stop practicing a song until we have it perfect, and if that requires that we play it until all our fingers fall off, then that’s just the way it’s going to be.”

Then he glanced at Micah. “Obviously notyourfingers. You just have to hold the microphone and look pretty like usual.”

There was no missing the flush of color that rose to Micah’s cheeks at that dig.

“We all have high standards,” John said, his voice low. “You’re not the only—”

“It’s more my arms than my fingers,” Steve put in. “But I’ve been working out, I joined—”

“I never said I was theonly,” Ryder said, “although your word choice is fucking hilarious. Maybe if you spent less time—”

“Guys,” Frankie hissed in a tone that suggested they’d said it a few times already. “Guys, seriously. Shut the fuck up.”

Steve had the grace to look chagrined. “Sorry, Frankie, we shouldn’t be arguing. And I didn’t mean—”

Frankie held a finger up to their mouth. “Shhhh.For real. Argue all you want, just not when they’re starting to talk about season six, okay? I’ve been waiting years to hear this shit.”

Yearswas a little dramatic for John, but he’d also been curious about that season. The minute he turned his attention back to the panel, he couldn’t help but notice out of the corner of his eye that Micah had slipped away from the group, disappearing somewhere back into the ship. He almost followed her. He didn’t care about a fictional murderer of some fictional college girls.

But he also had no real right to go after Micah, no expectation that she would welcome his presence. He rubbed the back of his neck, giving Frankie a smile when he caught them looking at him, and pretended to turn his focus back to the stage.

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